Page 17 of Bound in Violet Ink
That metallic gaze bores into me like hot iron, and yet it doesn’t feel like a predator sizing up prey. It feels like something dangerous in a different way—like he’s memorizing the shape of my soul. It’s so much that I feel the need to utterly flee.
“Many of those prisoners—” he takes in a sharp breath as another large clot slides out into the bowl “—would risk losinglimbsto fuck you until you can’t move. That’s hardly the worst of what they’d do to you.”
I nearly choke on my spit, not ready for such bluntness. “Do you want me to heal you or not?” I quip with an annoyingly high-pitched voice, staring him down as I meet that liquid gaze.
“Victoria.”
My name on his tongue is so… no. Him using my name shouldn’t have such a powerful command on me.
“Kane.”
His eyes flash with an intensity that annoyingly frightens me, and I begin to accept that the letters—whatever their purpose—werenotan invitation. Do people even call him by his name? Did I just cross a serious line? “I have not secured myself here, yet. That was to come with liberation. This is risking your life.”
I don’t know what to do with that statement, or those undertones. I refocus. “Well, Silas ordered me here. I don’t want to go back. At all. So this is what it is.”
“Oh, you’renotgoing back.”
If the lighting were better, I might be able to understand why I swear his face displays pride, greed, and rage all at once. A part of my mind spins the longer he stares at me, his scent thickens with the masculine stains, and somehow it’s completely comforting.
“Do you know whatweare?” he asks.
I hate that my gaze is pulled, nodragged, to his lips, especially the scar that cleaves through.Perhaps magic is at play. Contorting my logic.
“Maybe you can enlighten me,” I defensively reply.
Kane leans down over me, slowly crowding the space between us, his thick thigh now shifted so I’m in between both legs while I remain kneeling. My hatred for Silas locks me into this position, refusing to back away as it feels like I can’t swallow the knot in my throat. I prepare for so many things to happen…
His breathing mixes with a low, guttural sound that could only be described as a growl, my gaze locked onto his stomach that slightly bleeds from the movement as he speaks from above me. “I have half a mind to cover you entirely with my scent, so it’s impossible to mistake who has made a claim on you.”
The words singe my mind like an oil fire.
It’sthenthat I scramble to my feet, having no idea what to make of that statement. Blood rushes to my feet as I place the wall to my back, reaching for the door handle only to find it’s locked. “Isthatthe purpose of writing to me? To bring me here and defile me?”
“I tried to stop you,” he begins, making no effort to stand or chase me in this small room. There’s no need, I’m at his utter mercy no matter where I am in here. “It’s my duty to soothe your agitation.” His steel gaze lowers to look over my body. “Allof your agitation… as your mate.”
His words sink into my brain, which sears hot at the revelation.Mate… I press as firmly as possible against the cold wall. “Absolutely not.”
He remains where he’s at, his gaze darkening like a predator that’s confirmed itwillhave its prey. “Why, little flower?”
I swallow thickly, the dark room like a cage. Pieces of me scream with affirmation, their cries striking harshly againstthe fear that he’sright.I’m nowhere near prepared for this. “Perhaps I have gone mad.”
He leans forward from his sitting position, the room still smelling of the poison, but it no longer emanates from him—his scent is purelyhimnow.“You couldn’t stop writing to me because of our connection. Of the draw. You were desperate, and your soul reached out to the one resource that would do everything in his power to keep you safe. I told you not to write me, or else fate would seal itself. And I’m a man who would kill even the innocent to protect what’s his, and your soul knows that. Somewhere in there.”
Because either I am neglected or insane, I indulgein thesensationthat those words elicit. It would explain so much, and I can’t stop hearing the scratch marks those words are leaving on my soul—this is my way out.
Stop it. I must be neglected. A fated mate means leaving my current prison to accept the cuffs of another. I’m seriously supposed to bend to the idea that our souls are bound? That fate, some cruel magic, or the gods themselves have decided my worth and handed it over to him?
This is the same painting from Silas, just with different brush strokes…
Kane finally stands, and the shift in energy is immediate. My nostrils flare when I realize, despite my height, even with every inch of defiance in my spine, he ismuchlarger than me. Worn boots move over the stone, his scent invading the space around me until there’s nothing else to breathe. “I know you’re aware of that, somewhere deep down. Why else write to me?”
I don’t answer.
Stand tall, Victoria. This might be some of your last moments. Even if you’re broken, stand for yourself.
Kane only seems enthralled, greed staining his silver eyes. Blood pounds in my neck when he reaches out to touch mythroat with his rough hand. His fingers rest on the pulse hammering beneath my skin, and hesmiles, just barely, like it answers a question for him. “And I admit, selfishly, that I want to mold you to me—” his fingertips move to the nape of my neck, gripping my hair, tightening as possession glints in his eyes like metal catching sunlight “—Have you ever been with a man?”
“No,” I say, resolute.
